


Summer Bake... or Beyond?

by queeniesye



Series: Summer Bake... or Beyond? [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, Endless Summer 2020, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers (Perhaps?), Friendship/Love, I just want to write about love and baking!, Romance, Yearning, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniesye/pseuds/queeniesye
Summary: Cloud has two summer months left to get closer to Midgar's renowned baker, Tifa Lockhart.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Zack Fair, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: Summer Bake... or Beyond? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935109
Comments: 39
Kudos: 107





	1. Finding His Way to the Pastry Chef

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the first day of Endless Summer 2020, and the "Never gonna stop us now" prompt!

Within the glass walls of a certain café’s greenhouse, baking tools were spread across island counters equipped with sinks, stoves and ovens. Figures clad in black aprons marked with the “Lockhart Patisserie” logo at its centre front, were present for an early morning activity. Instead of mingling around, Cloud was quietly blending in among them, with eyes focused on reading a laminated piece of paper he received from the café greeter. At the top of the paper, the title was printed in big bold letters: APRICOT BUTTER CAKE RECIPE, and the rest of the paper’s content consisted of a detailed guidance on how make it.

It was a couple of minutes later when a woman in a chef’s uniform and the same apron as the rest of the attendees arrived, with her dark brown hair neatly secured into a bun and a chic tote bag – the summer limited edition of Rasberry bags – slung over her shoulder. A gold chrome nametag spelling the word “Tifa Lockhart” was pinned on her shirt at the right chest. She assumed position at the most front table facing the rest of the attendees and began addressing them, “Good morning everyone! It’s nice to see you all again.”

The glasshouse clamoured as her greeting was returned with equally eager salutations from her addressees.

Holding and pointing at the recipe paper, the woman continued, “As you all know… today we will be making apricot butter cakes! It’s a fairly simple recipe that I hope everyone will be able to make all throughout this summer. Now, are your ovens pre-heated to a hundred and sixty degree celcius?”

Cloud checked the oven under his counter and, following the woman’s instruction, turned it on to the required heat level. The session went on in a consistent arrangement – the woman led through statements and demonstrations, and the attendees trailed along, including Cloud. When someone encountered a problem, a hand would be raised and the woman would provide the necessary clarity. After two hours into the session, the sugary smell of burned apricot lingering in the air hinted at fully baked cakes waiting to be taken out of the ovens.

Cloud was the first one who did, which prompted the woman who led the class to hover over at his counter. Her presence rattled his poise.

One look at his cake and she seemed pleased, “Do you mind if I taste it?”

He handed her one of the small plates and spoons on his table, “Su-Sure…”

She had a bite out of a small portion she cut from his cake, and a smile was formed on her lips, “This is a successful cake, Mr. Strife!”

He blushed with a smile, “Thanks, Ms. Lockhart.”

His eyes followed her as she moved to check another attendee’s cake. A hefty exhale quietly escaped out of him as he regained his composure.

_Relax, Cloud!_ The voice in his head blurted, admonishing him for his failure to appear less tense around the woman, Tifa Lockhart.

Cloud first came to know of her through Rude, a work colleague who often filled the office pantry with Tifa’s pastries to snack on during his pastimes.

Offering one of the pastries for Cloud to try, Rude told him, “You should try this. It’s the most sought after pastry here in Midgar.”

It took a single taste of the sweet and savoury tang from the pastry to get sweet tooth Cloud _hooked_. His curiosity about this baker who created the pastry made him sit through a marathon of her baking show, just to jot down one recipe after another for him to try dabbling with. He would buy from her patisserie when he learned that she had set up a Midgar branch, and spent many after work hours in her café.

When Tifa announced that she would be joining other well-known bakers in Midgar to conduct a series of baking classes all throughout summer, he jumped at the opportunity and signed himself up for all her sessions. Following his attendance to several of these classes, Cloud had to come to terms with another change of circumstance that he had not expected at all: his _major_ crush for Tifa. The amount of effort he put to excel in these classes so he could impress her was a telling confirmation. 

He thought of ways to try and move their acquaintanceship beyond the tutor-tutee connection… but one summer month had passed and he did _nothing_. And he cussed his often anxious self for his lack of proactivity.

_Two summer months left_ , Cloud noted, then told himself he needed to _do_ something. 

***

The toaster pinged, pushing two slightly burnt slices of bread out of the toasting slots. With wooden thongs, Cloud grabbed and served them on a porcelain plate that already had fried chocobo sausages and baked red beans on it. To complete the dish, he topped the bread with butter and over easy sunny side up eggs. Sitting at an island countertop located adjacent to the stove, Cloud munched on his food and sipped coffee out of a mug in between, as he browsed through the morning paper. A slow R&B song was playing in the background to further lighten up the atmosphere of the room. It was a typical breakfast scenario for Cloud during his days off.

His phone beeped several times, an indicator that he was receiving a series of messages from someone or some people. He disliked the intrusion to his morning breakfast but checked his phone anyway to avoid possibly missing and delaying his responses to important messages.

One of the messages was from Zack, a close friend he made during his college days: _Morning_ _spiky! We’re right at your door!_

The entrance doorbell buzzed. Cloud almost choked on his coffee, “What the hell?!”

He swung open the door and sure enough, Zack and his fiancée stood before him. Zack had his left arm around Aerith’s shoulder. Aerith had her right arm around Zack’s hips. Wide grins were plastered on their faces as they flashed peace signs to Cloud with their other hands.

“Too early?” Zack asked, almost mockingly.

Cloud sighed, “Come in.”

The pair walked in and rapidly made themselves comfortable in the living room. When Cloud came, Aerith already had some pink bowties with different patterns lined up on the coffee table. “Here’s a couple of bowties that I want you, the best man, to choose from.”

Cloud furrowed his eyebrows, “…but they’re all so tacky.”

Aerith squinted, “So?”

The exchange had Zack chortling, “Give it a break, Cloud. You know how Aerith is.”

_There’s no point in arguing_ , Cloud told himself. So even if he liked none of the bowties, he made his choice – a random selection, “The one with the frogs then.”

He accepted the bowtie from Aerith, “You guys aren’t here _just_ for the bowties.”

Zack adjusted his voice, “You’re absolutely correct.”

“We want you to choose our wedding cake and desserts for us!” Aerith chimed in.

“Huh…? Why me?” the tone of Cloud’s voice expressed his absolute confusion.

Aerith shrugged, “Becauuuuuse you like cakes and pastries…?”

Worried about not meeting their expectations, Cloud objected, “I like them, yes but it’s not like I _know_ enough to figure out what you guys want for your cakes and dessert palate.”

Familiar with Cloud’s lack of self-confidence, Zack stepped in to reassure him, “Don’t worry! We’ll give you all the information you need about what sort of details you should be aware of.”

Cloud sighed. The excitement on Zack and Aerith’s faces as they awaited for his final decision drove him to give in, “…Fine. I’ll do it.”

Aerith was thrilled with his answer, enough to make her do several fist pumps that sent Zack into fits of giggles.

“Ok, you need to get the cakes and dessert palate from the best baker in town!” Aerith suggested as she scrolled through her phone screen, seemingly looking for this baker she was referring to.

When she revealed to Cloud the face of this baker, his eyes widened, “Oh… you meant her.”

“You know her?”

Cloud hesitantly nodded.

“Great! Then there should be no problem!”

Cloud offered no response. Something else had interrupted his thoughts. The idea of choosing Zack and Aerith’s wedding cake and dessert palate was no longer as bad as he assumed. Instead, his mind had reframed the whole situation into a chance to get closer to Tifa.

Or so he hoped.

***

Facing the glass double doors of Lockhart Cafe, Cloud stood still, harnessing as much willpower as he possibly could to enter. When he finally made his entrance, it was met with gazes of suspicion from the café’s employees. He dismissed them all to address the female cashier behind the counter.

The gold chrome nametag of the cashier bore the name “Yuffie Kisaragi”, “Good day sir, how may I help you?”

“I uhh… I have an appointment with Ms. Lockhart.”

Yuffie lifted one of her eyebrows, “And your name, sir?”

Cloud gave his name, to which Yuffie entered and searched in a digital document from the laptop she was working with. He saw her nod, “Alright, I found your name on the appointed time. I’ll give Ms. Lockhart a heads up.”

She disappeared into a room marked with a notice serving as a prohibition against entry to non-employees, only to return accompanied by Tifa. 

At the sight of him, a friendly smile lit up Tifa’s face, “Mr. Strife! Good to see you again!”

“Good to see you too, Ms. Lockhart,” Cloud replied with a smile he believed was amply convincing to mask his edginess.

Pointing at a staircase leading to the second floor of the café, she told him, “Let’s bring the meeting upstairs, shall we?”

Upstairs, they settled at a round table filled with plates of assorted cakes and pastries. Cloud observed as Tifa unfastened the string around her notebook and began writing a number of lines on a page. When she finished, she looked up to him, “So! From what I understand through your registration form, you’re requesting for a personalized cake and dessert palate for a wedding ceremony that will be conducted in… two months’ time?”

Cloud bobbed his head, “Correct.”

“Your wedding?” she asked again, with a playful grin.

Panic gripped him, “Uh no! It’s my best friend’s!”

Her chuckle was telling him that his defensive response might be unwarranted after all!

“This is interesting. Usually, the brides – and even grooms, wouldn’t just let someone else choose their cakes and other desserts for them. They must trust you a great deal!”

Cloud shrugged, “Maybe…”

“Ok then! I’ll trust you too. Have a bite of these cakes and pastries, and tell me what you think,” Tifa suggested, shifting the focus of their conversation to the cakes and pastries on the table.

Cloud concurred, and carried on with taking small bites of each cake and pastry available under her watchful eyes. One bite after another… and _something_ felt amiss. As much as he loved how they tasted, he knew they were not to Aerith and Zack’s liking.

With a hopeful look, she probed, “Well…?”

He kept his mouth busy with pretending that he was still munching, afraid to provide his honest reviews, for fear of offending her. 

She sighed, and that was when he knew that she knew, “It’s alright, Mr. Strife. I won’t be mad.”

Avoiding her stare, he looked away, “…Sorry. I don’t think they would like any of them.”

Tifa made a note of his remark in her notebook, “It’s fine. Thank you for letting me know. I guess, it’s entirely up to you now to tell me the specifics.”

He fished a small piece of paper out of the pockets of his trousers, which he gave to her, “I brought you the list of things that they want.”

As she read through the list, he could tell that it was both a relief and a challenge to her, “Oh wow… what odd tastes they have. You’re right. They definitely won’t like any of what I just offered to you!”

“Yeah… nothing sweet at all. It’s only sour and savoury for them.”

Tifa cupped her chin, “So we’re thinking… creams of lemon, cherry, cranberry, orange – and the likes for the cakes, and purely savoury fillings for the pastries.”

“I think so,” Cloud agreed.

“Should the cake have more than one tier?”

He chuckled, “Those two wouldn’t want anything less than a three-tiered cake.”

Tifa tittered, “I’ll make a note of that!”

“Any particular decoration that I should be aware of for the cake?” she asked again.

Almost instinctively, Cloud whipped out his phone to show her a picture of a flower field behind an abandoned church somewhere in Midgar’s old city, “Those yellow and white flowers… I think they would love that. It’s the flowers he gave to her on their first date.”

Smiles of joy for Aerith and Zack’s love were exchanged between them, until Tifa moved to jot down the details he provided her with.

The clock was ticking and Cloud knew his appointment was coming to an end. He thought of ways to prolong their meeting, to no avail…

“Mr. Strife… I notice that you’re a frequent visitor to my cafés and patisseries since I’ve opened a branch here.”

Her sudden comment caught him off-guard. As though a lump was stuck in his throat, he had to squeak out, “Uhh yeah… I am.”

She glanced at him, “And you’re also attending my classes this summer?”

_Of course she’s going to notice!_ The voice in his head was screaming, angry at himself for not putting more effort in not standing out as her customer.

He had to give her a _strategically crafted_ answer, “Yeah, I am. Your café and patisserie have really good cakes and pastries. So I thought… I needed to learn how to make them from you.”

Tifa giggled, “Thank you. I’m glad that you love the cakes and pastries. But I don’t teach how to make them in my classes because I’m not giving away the recipes.”

“I am… aware,” Cloud mumbled, mortified that his _strategically crafted_ answer made him look like a fool!

He was watching her as she was sketching the white and yellow flowers on a page, when a thought crossed his mind, “What about… a personal class? Would you teach me then?”

She paused, and flashed him a smirk, “Oh? What are you suggesting, Mr. Strife?”

Emboldened by her reaction, he continued, “I’m asking if you’re willing to give me personal baking lessons on your cakes and pastries… Ms. Lockhart.”

There was an elongated moment of silence between them and Cloud was certain that she would turn down his proposition. Negative sequences of events started playing out in his head… but Tifa broke the hush, “I guess I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Cloud could not believe what he just heard, “Are you serious?”

She nodded with a smile, “Is there any certain kind of pastry or cake that you want me to teach you?”

It did not matter to him what kind of cake or pastry that she could teach him to make. He was already counting the days ‘til he could spend more time with her outside the usual summer classes.

So he replied with the first thing that popped in his mind, “Chocobo samosas.”

***

Rain was pouring heavily, cooling off the otherwise sizzling summer evening. Cloud was in the kitchen somewhere inside Tifa’s home, donning a red and white polka dot apron. Standing beside him was Tifa, also wearing a similar apron that was covering her casual outfit comprising of a white t-shirt and black shorts. It was about forty-five minutes past the time of his arrival, and they were almost at the end of the samosa-making session. Tifa was teaching him to fold the filo sheets into triangular shapes and he followed, but his mind kept darting to the boy who was watching television at an adjacent room.

When the boy answered the door, it felt like the entire universe was against him.

Tifa shoved the baking tray lined with their newly filled and folded samosas into the oven, before leaning her back against the sink, “You’re distracted.”

Cloud was almost too ashamed to admit it, “…Sorry.”

She crossed her arms against her chest, “What’s bothering you?”

With caution, he opened up, “I assume… that boy is your son?”

“Yes… he is,” there was a hint of hesitation in her voice, as though she was confused as to why he was asking her such a question.

“Ms. Lockhart… I’m unsure if it’s right for me to be here. Your husband-” Cloud let his sentence hung mid-air. The words pricked him too much for him to end.

Tifa tilted her head, “Husband? I don’t have one.”

“You don’t? So that boy is…?” it took a lot of strength for Cloud not to collapse out of relief.

She shook her head, “Denzel is my foster son.”

When she fixed her sights to the boy in the adjacent room, she spoke as if she had just momentarily wandered into a distant past, “I… fostered him after the collapse of Sector 7.”

The collapse of Sector 7 in Midgar’s new city was a recent tragedy that left so many children orphaned. Fostering these children was not something unheard of. Cloud felt like an _asshole_ for being distressed over her son’s presence. 

“I watched my hometown burned down… and grew up without my parents, so… I know how it feels like,” Tifa added solemnly.

_Her hometown burned down…?_ Cloud recapped her words in his mind.

“Ms. Lockhart, if you don’t mind me asking… did you come from Nibelheim?”

Tifa seemed surprised when he brought up the name of that town, “Yes, I am! How did you know? It’s a fairly small and secluded town that I’m amazed someone from a city like this is aware of it.”

Cloud beamed, “I came from Nibelheim too.”

“Really?!” he knew that she was as excited as he was.

The burning down of Nibelheim after several oil tank explosions had almost devastated the town’s entire population. The ones left behind had migrated elsewhere in search of a better life, or to escape the trauma that the place would remind them of. It was only natural for the reunion to give them a sense of companionship. They finally had something in common, and Cloud was more than glad to welcome it. The universe was on his side once again.

The oven dinged, moving Tifa to take out the baking tray and revealing well-baked golden brown samosas. She called out to her son so he could join them too, to which he obliged. Both Cloud and Tifa let him have the first samosa.

“This is really good, Tifa,” the boy complimented, as he chewed on his samosa.

The boy made a turn to gawk at Cloud, “You should come here more often, Mister, so Tifa would bake more of these. She never does.”

With hands on her hips, Tifa glared at the boy, “EXCUSE ME?!”

The situation left Cloud cackling.

***

It had stopped raining and based on the time displayed on the kitchen wall clock some few minutes ago, Cloud estimated that it was already ten in the evening. Carrying the box of samosas Tifa packed for him, he expressed his appreciation, “Thanks for teaching me on how to make these.”

She smiled, “Sure, no problem! I’m glad you enjoyed it,”

“I’m assuming… there will be more personal lessons in the near future?”

Tifa laughed, “Perhaps. See you soon, Cloud.”

“Oh? So we’re on a first-name basis now?” he queried, raising an eyebrow in fascination.

“Yes, yes we are,” her remark came after a frisky sigh. It made him smile.

They bid each other goodbye, and he called her by her first name for the first time.

As he was walking away, he was sure – more than ever, that what they have would last beyond summer.


	2. The Entremet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want the story to end like it did in my submission for Endless Summer 2020. So I decided to prolong this into a couple more chapters!

The gated neighbourhood was left quiet, with most of its residents spending their Sunday morning hours elsewhere. Standing tall along the pedestrian walkways of the suburban streets were decaying trees, barely blocking the sun’s rays with their branches from the handful of people walking beneath them. They passed through a grey two-storeyed vinyl siding house, with its kitchen windows wide open to let out the saccharine smell of boiling tea leaves and baking bread. Tifa could be seen sitting at the bar counter, wearing her white and red polka dot apron over a short pyjama set.

She was making sketches of macarons, cakes, breads – every pastry that she could think of, and sighing now and then. The oven dinged, moving her to take out the tray of cinnamon rolls that she was baking. On top of the rolls, she spread some generous amount of cream cheese frosting before leaving them to cool. She turned off the stove and poured herself a cup of green tea that she slowly sipped, with her eyes fixed on the view outside her home. Her mind wandered into some faraway land as she searched for inspiration…

“Morning Tifa,” the murmured greeting from Denzel interfered with her daydreaming.

“Morning baby. Green tea? Or hot chocolate?”

Chewing on one of the cinnamon rolls, Denzel replied, “Hot chocolate, and please stop calling me ‘baby’. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Tifa raised her eyebrows and folded her arms above her chest, “Oh? Someone’s having an attitude today. Sorry but I’m still calling you ‘baby’ because you _are_ my baby.”

Denzel grunted, “Whatever…”

Tifa took several more sips of her green tea, “Any plans for today?”

“Probably will just skate at the park with Marlene and the others,” Denzel answered, in between him licking cream cheese frosting from his lips.

Tifa set her cup on the counter, “That’s great. Will you be back by lunch?”

He shook his head, “Nah… Marlene said her dad’s going to cook for us.”

Marlene was the foster daughter of a renowned figure in Midgar, Barret Wallace – one of the few conservationists working at the city’s only public garden. She knew, from stories told to her by neighbours, friends and acquaintances that Barret was often keen on serving his guests food entirely made out of organic produce. She trusted her son in Barret’s hands, so she did not objected.

There was only one thing that Tifa would not compromise on, “That’s fine. But as always… I want you home by 5. I don’t want you absent from the dinner table.”

Denzel hesitantly nodded, a telling sign of his dissatisfaction with the household rule. Nonetheless, he gave her his word, “Yeah yeah… I get it.”

Tifa watched as Denzel rushed to finish his breakfast, and bid him goodbye when he left the house with a bum bag hanging across his chest and a skateboard under one of his arms. All alone in the kitchen once again, her attention landed back to her sketchbook.

 _Should I sketch some more?_ She wondered, but one glance at the wall clock, and she was certain wasting more time on sketching would not bring her anywhere.

“Icing sugar… ground almonds… egg whites… some food colouring…" she started listing all the ingredients that she thought might be necessary to make the pastry she was set on making, and retrieved them from the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator.

Once the radio was turned on, with the chart-topping smooth jazz album of four-time Jenova Music Awards winner Rufus Shinra playing from the speakers, Tifa was ready to bake. The rest of her morning was spent on just making one macaron after another, in various flavours and design patterns that she wanted to experiment with. The process was continuous, with her not making any pauses in between. Four hours passed and she was unaware. 

Only a certain phone call would make her halt, and that was enough to slightly annoy her. When she answered, a familiar voice greeted her on the other end of the line, “Hey, Tifa.”

The voice lightened her mood and made her feel bad about her initial reaction to the phone call, “Hey you! What’s up?”

“Have you had your lunch?”

Tifa was sieving a mixture of icing sugar and ground almond as she replied, “Nope, I haven’t.”

“I can hear that you’re doing something but I’m still asking anyway… do you want to go out and have lunch with me?” Cloud sounded hopeful.

Yet her prearranged schedule had strictly reserved her entire morning ‘til afternoon for her baking practice, “I’m sorry, Cloud but I don’t think I can now. I’m busy baking.”

“Oh ok… I figured that much,” he was disappointed, she could tell from the dourness of his voice.

She disliked leaving him feeling down all by himself, “Hey… I’ll make it up to you. How about tomorrow? I’ll come by your studio and we can have lunch together.”

“No… it’s ok. I’ll come over.”

Tifa stopped filling a piping bag with the batter she just made, “What? You’re coming over?”

“Yeah. I’ll bring lunch for you too.”

“You don’t have to, Cloud! Really.”

She heard him chuckle, “It’s fine, Tifa. I want to and I’m not going to let you go hungry. You always forget to eat when you’re busy.”

She smiled, “Thanks, Cloud.” Cloud was an attentive person, Tifa recognized after just a month of befriending him. He noticed the tiniest of details about her that she sometimes missed, and she had to admit she liked that part of him.

When their call ended, Tifa continued baking, until she heard the entrance doorbell rang as she was making her fourth set of macarons. She found Cloud by the door, carrying a huge plate of sushi set with ample servings for more than the two of them.

“You got us sushi!”

Cloud flashed her a rather proud smile, “Us and Denzel.”

She felt awful about dashing his hopes _again_ , knowing how much he loved spending time with Denzel, but she chose honesty, “Oh… but Denzel’s not joining us. He’s having lunch with his friends.”

“That’s ok. We’ll leave some for him,” Cloud took it pretty well, to her relief.

He entered the kitchen to place the sushi set on the dining table and immediately took notice of the pleasant fruity scent wafting in the air, “It smells really sweet here. What are you making?”

Tifa grabbed two small ceramic bowls and chopsticks, which she then put next to the sushi plate, “Macarons.”

“You’re adding them to the menu?” Cloud asked, while picking an eel marinated in teriyaki sauce sushi roll with his chopstick.

Munching a small ball of rice topped with a strip of sweet omelette, Tifa replied, “Sort of. They’re supposed to be my limited edition summer pastries. We have them every summer.”

Cloud nodded in comprehension.

Yet, she felt obliged to disclose to him, after exhaling, “Though I don’t think I’m happy with them at all.”

Cloud raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“…I don’t think I should be selling these macarons. They don’t look like limited edition summer pastries,” her confession sounded senseless at that point, knowing that she already made several batches of macarons that she thought would help in perfecting her craft.

“Can I see them?” Cloud was eager to weigh in his judgements about her macarons, and she allowed him to take a peek into the refrigerator, since he was one of her loyal customers – if not _the_ most loyal customer.

He checked them and told her, “They look decent. I don’t think they’re bad. The patterns are nice. I’m sure people will be curious about them.”

“But I won’t really know until I taste them,” he added as he returned to sit at the dining table.

Tifa propped her head against one of her hands, “Yeah but… something is still _missing_.”

Cloud stared at the ceiling, “They lack… depth? Soul?”

She was taken aback by his words, but she knew it was all that she wanted to hear.

Her silence alarmed him, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

She shook her head and said, “No, you’re right. I have to start over,”

When he looked away, as if he was avoiding her gaze, she caught him mumbling under his breath, “…though I still want to taste those macarons.”

Passers-by were jolted by the roar of her laughter. Cloud stayed quiet, seemingly growing embarrassed by the minute. 

Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, she reassured him, “I’ll bring them to your studio tomorrow!”

***

It was lunchbreak for almost all of the employed population of Midgar’s new city. Rowdy groups of figures clad in blue or white collar work attires either walked into eateries, or queued outside of them to score tables. Those who packed lunchboxes, or purchased finger food from food trucks or street stalls sat at various free public spaces – park benches, grass lots and bus stop seats. Among the crowds of people walked Tifa, in her chef uniform and her hair tied up in a ponytail. Every now and then, she would stop to feed the pigeons that flock to her with pieces of bread. 

At a street lined with film and stage theatres, dance studios and every other venues for performance art, Tifa made a pause in front of a building with exterior walls painted entirely in black. Decorated on top of the walls was a huge and unlit neon sign spelling the words: Reno Dance Studio. Tifa took a glimpse at the small white packaging that she was carrying in her hand and walked into said building. She was greeted with a bob-haired blonde female receptionist who instructed her to sign her particulars on the visitors’ logbook. When she asked for directions to see a Cloud Strife, the receptionist pointed her the way to reach a dance room at the end of the ground floor hallway.

From the hallway, Tifa could already hear a rock ballad song booming from the room. Once inside, a figure gliding through the hardwood floors instantly captured her attention. It was Cloud, shirtless and donning only a pair of baggy black trousers. He moved from one end of the room to another with grace, sometimes jumping high and twirling his body in air, before making a stable landing on his feet and bending ever so gently backwards with a contorted face as if he was in pain. Light from the sun penetrating through the uncovered windows of the room glistened the sweat along the lines of his muscle curves, turning his figure into a work of art reminiscent of marbled statues.

Tifa gulped and felt her breathing grew laborious…

Cloud was soon sitting on the floor, and following the rhythm of the music, eventually lie on it so he could lift his back by pushing his heels into the floor. He then let his body rolled about the floor, like the rigorous movements of an insect’s body during its final moments of life… until he pushed himself up with his arms to sit on his knees. He bent his body backwards once again, with his arms in the air. After a while, he brought them down, and clutched his head with his hands. He had such a pained expression on his face that Tifa thought he was about to cry.

The song ended and the thunderous claps from another presence that Tifa was unaware of echoed throughout the room.

“VERY good. With this, we may actually win that championship by default. You just need to work on some of your pirouettes,” said the man with spiky bleached fiery-red hair. His long and low ponytail and open chest top gave a laidback impression on him.

Cloud was standing at a corner, chugging a bottle of cold water and wiping sweat off from his body with a towel, “Thanks Reno. I’ll make a note of that.”

When he saw Tifa approaching, a smile lit up his face.

“I brought you the macarons that you wanted,” she told him as she handed him the small white package.

She saw the way his cheeks flushed in pink as he mumbled his thanks to her. They almost made her reach out just to pinch them!

Sitting with folded legs on the floor beside her and chomping on the macarons, he asked her, “So… have you thought about what to make for your limited summer edition pastries?”

Tifa winked, giving him a mischievous smile, “I think I do.”

“You do? What is it?”

“Come over at place this Sunday. I think I’ll figure something out by then!”

***

The television in the living room flashed in bright colours, showing fictional characters in 3D moving across different areas dressed in full combat gear. Loud bangs of ammos fired from heavy duty guns reverberated from the speakers, followed by the sound of Denzel and his friends shouting in excitement at the top of their lungs. Adjacent to the room was the kitchen, where Tifa stood in front of the island counter, staring at a batch of cakes she just made. They were all small in size, rectangular in shape, and layered into three. When the entrance doorbell rang, she called for Denzel to help her answer the door.

She waited nervously for the figure she was expecting to arrive at the kitchen. And when he did, she mustered enough spirit to show a smile that betrayed her tenseness. 

“Wow… these will be the limited summer edition pastries?” Cloud queried, with his eyes glued on the cakes.

“Yes. They’re… obviously not pastries, but I’ve decided that cakes will be this year’s limited summer edition products.”

She offered him one of the cakes, along with a small spoon, “Try it!”

It only took one bite for his face to become animated, “This is really good, Tifa! What is it?”

She giggled, overjoyed that the cake brought a positive reaction out of Cloud. “It’s an Entremet, with three different layers of flavour – mango penna cotta, passionfruit genoise and a pistachio base.”

Cloud was halfway through finishing his first cake, “Interesting. People will love this.”

“Thanks… It was inspired by you.”

He stopped eating, “Huh? Inspired by me?”

“Yep! You were a totally different person when you dance, Cloud. And it really got me thinking… about creating something that represents the multilayers of a person.”

He placed his plate down, “A totally different person, huh? In a bad or good way?”

She smiled, “Silly… the good way, of course. I was impressed.”

Clearly her words did something to him because he was no longer able to hold his gaze on her. His cheeks were growing pink… and so did his ears.

 _Oh, that’s new_ , Tifa observed.

“I… I- I’m glad I helped you in some way,” he said, looking away.

His coyness was gradually affecting her. She began reflecting on her actions and words, and finally rationalized the gravity of their meanings. It made her shy too... burning her cheeks into redness. She did not know what to do from there. They stood facing one another, neither looking at nor speaking to one another…

Until Denzel came out of the living room and appeared at the kitchen, as if urging them to return to their sense. “Tifa, can I have these cakes with my friends?”

Cloud ran his hand through his hair. Tifa adjusted her voice, “Uhh yeah, sure baby. You and your friends can have them.”

“…Can I have another one?” she heard Cloud timidly asked, after Denzel left.

It made her smile, “Of course.”

“So I’ll be seeing these on the refrigerated display cases of your patisseries and cafes by… next week?” Cloud asked, helping himself to a second cake.

Tifa nodded.

A content smile that he seemed to want to hide was formed on his lips, “I’m glad.”

As they sat next to each other eating their cakes, Tifa could not help but feel that something has changed between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cloud's dance routine was largely inspired by Sergei Polunin, dancing to Hozier's "Take Me to Church" :)


	3. Unspoken Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to bump up the rating juuuuuust a little... for reasons! I hope you guys are able to daydream about a certain place in FFVII that I've made into a 'magical' version.

The sky was already void of the sun but the evening air remained heavy with hot humidity. At Sector 6, the shopping centre of Midgar’s new city, traffic was congested – a common incidence that the residents were accustomed to. Frustrated drivers peeped their heads out of their windows to yell expletives or express their grievances about reaching home or work for their overtime shifts, blaring music produced by advertisements playing on large digital billboards added to the noise; pedestrians walked brazenly along zebra crossings, ignoring the commotions around them and others were on the sidewalks, having conversations or making decisions about which malls to enter and shop at. Large posters promoting Rufus Shinra’s smooth jazz album hanging outside each and every huge malls in the zone captured the attention of so many who either marvelled over his good looks, or were complimenting the quality of the album.

Several blocks away, a tall high rise apartment complex towered over a large children’s playground. A silver stainless steel signboard with black letters gave the building a name: Evergreen Apartments. On the fifteenth floor, inside room 1510, a broad LED television was running a classic science fiction film directed by Hojo, Midgar’s obscured film director with a cultish fan base. Two unconscious figures locked in tubes filled with gooey green liquids were shown on the screen, and Aerith who was sitting on a grey three-seater couch scooted closer to Zack so she could lean herself against him. Zack in turn wrapped an arm around her shoulder to make her feel more secure.

Somewhere close to the lovebirds, Cloud sat on a black beanbag, eyes fixed on his phone screen, losing any of his attention left for the film. He would giggle, every now and then as he was reading and typing a text message. At a certain point, when he felt like he was being observed, he looked up to find both Aerith and Zack gawking at him. They seemed annoyed.

“Dude. What’s your deal? We’re trying to watch the film.”

Cloud shrugged, “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”

“You’re the one who wanted to watch it in the first place. We can change it if you want to.”

Cloud did not offer his reply, instead opting to type several messages that he would eventually send to the person he was texting with.

Aerith grinned, “Zack, I’m curious… who’s this person that’s keeping him occupied?”

“I wonder too…” there was a hint of puckishness in the way Zack responded. 

Cloud knew he was in trouble. “It’s no one special,” he lied in a flimsy attempt to appear dismissive.

Zack exchanged glances with Aerith, then scoffed, “You’re lying man. Not even I could make you laugh like that with texts.”

“Give it up, Cloud. Tell us who it is,” Aerith insisted.

The air conditioners made a clicking sound, signalling that the temperature had been automatically dropped, as set and timed by Cloud. A man could be heard from outside shouting drunken ramblings and cussing the city mayor for his inaptitude. Aerith, who lost her patience, unlocked the almost entirely condensed living room window and told the man to shut up. Their exchanges quickly became a verbal dispute, with both Zack and Cloud amusedly watching and listening in silence. 

The fight ended with the drunken man quietened down, and Aerith slamming the window shut. “Seriously, Cloud. You need to do something about that man. If he has something to say to Domino, he needs to say it _to_ Domino. What’s the point of harassing people living here? Domino doesn’t even live here!”

“Oho… so you’ve been texting a Tifa Lockhart huh,” Zack’s remark came out of the blue, but was enough to jolt Cloud. Aerith got him too distracted to notice Zack going behind him.

“Stop doing that!”

Zack made his way to the pantry, in his bid to search for a snack to munch on. “Sorry, Cloud. It’s the only way for me to get you to talk.”

The film playing on the television screen was rewound and paused at a specific time by Aerith who had the remote controller in one of her hands. “Wait a minute… Tifa Lockhart?” she said, discerning that the name mentioned by Zack sounded familiar.

“Isn’t she the pastry chef we’re hiring to make our wedding cakes and dessert palate?” she probed.

There was no reason for him to hide it again, Cloud thought. So he admitted, though rather reluctantly, “…Yeah. It is her.”

Zack unsealed a bag of crisps with flavours made from cilantro and turmeric, and offered some to Aerith. “How long has this been going on between you two?”

Cloud refused to answer, afraid that they would figure out his actual intention of working over the wedding cake and dessert palate with Tifa.

As always, the lovebirds outsmarted him. “Don’t tell me… that’s why you weren’t objecting as much as I thought you would when we asked you to meet and work with her,” Aerith fathomed it all correctly.

“So this thing you have for her has been going on waaaay before we asked you to meet her,” and so did Zack.

Cloud sheepishly bobbed his head.

“Dudeeeeeeeee,” Zack was in disbelief – maybe a little hurt by him keeping secrets, Cloud could tell.

Aerith placed her chin on top of her hands that she pressed together with her fingers interlaced, and studied Cloud’s face. “So where are you guys now? A hook up? A fling? Seriously dating?”

His silence gave way for her to be sure about her verdict, “Uh-huh. Nowhere but friends.”

She rose from her seat and started slowly pacing around the room, seemingly concocting some sort of a plan in her mind. “How about this then… I’ll invite her over to our bachelor and bachelorette weekend,” she said, flinging both of the men’s heads up to look at her with wide eyes.

“N-No! I don’t want to look _that_ desperate!” Cloud protested, almost with desperation.

Aerith shook her head, “You’re moving too slowly, Cloud! We’re helping you here!”

Somewhere on the rooftop of Evergreen Apartments, an indie band was performing for a private party attended by college students; rooms inhabited by families turned their lights out and put their children to bed, a couple entered the children’s playground below and spent the entire night making out inside the slide as more drunken people started sauntering through the streets. 

The science fiction film running on the LED television was put on hold. Instead, Cloud’s room was loud with the sound of him arguing with Aerith and Zack for some time, until a neighbour has had enough and knocked on his door to tell them to keep their voices down.

***

On board of C. S Reeve, an ocean liner available exclusively for sea rides only from the city of Junon, Tifa stood at the far edge of its upper deck, in a dark blue sundress patterned with silver butterfly embroidery on its hem and neckline. In one of her hands, she held a glass of champagne that she sipped at times, as she gazed at the horizon that stretched beyond the limits of what her eyes could see and listened to the sea waves rolling beneath the moving ship. Double doors leading to the deck swung open, implying the arrival of another presence – Cloud. He stood by the doors for a while, transfixed by the sight of Tifa’s figure. His eyes followed the movements of her long hair swaying in the cool summer breeze that was resonant of the elegant trickle of ink on paper. He drew as much of his breath in… and approached her when he regained his composure.

“Not joining the others?” she asked when he reached her side.

“Maybe later… parties just aren’t my thing.”

Tifa leaned her back against the railing, and started mildly swirling her glass of champagne. “This is the first time I’m attending a client’s bachelor and bachelorette weekend. It’s kind of funny.”

“Sorry… I tried,” Cloud apologized. Four hours of debating with Zack and Aerith over inviting Tifa to join them, and it ended with him defeated. The lovebirds would not budge.

“No, it’s alright. Actually, I’m having lots of fun right now,” Tifa countered. She set her glass on one of the round tables behind them and stretched her arms. “And don’t worry, Denzel’s staying over at Wedge,” she told him – mentioning Wedge because she was one of her few most trusted friends, as if she could guess that he was also concerned about her son.

The kind smile on her lips reassured him that bringing her along might not be such a bad idea after all.

The journey on ship lasted for two days before Cloud and the rest of his companions reached the only port built on the world’s largest south-eastern island. From the port, a mini cab was hired and paid for by Zack and Aerith that would take them for a trip on a winding road, through an area thick with tall lush green trees. Animals would pass by on occasion, delaying the usually fifteen minutes ride to a dull roughly forty-five minutes ride instead. Cloud fell into a doze, only to be roused by the driver’s voice telling them that they have arrived at their final destination. The cab parked right beneath a wooden arch spelling the name of the town, Mideel, and the driver stepped out to help them unload their luggage.

Outside, the crew gained a closer outlook of the town – a small area in the middle of a foliage, comprising of stilted buildings and pathways made of pine, erected around and above a deep crystal blue lake. 

“Are you kidding me, Zack?” an offhand remark made by fiery-red haired Reno, who was there by virtue of not only being Cloud’s colleague but also his and Zack’s close friend from college. He lifted his sunglasses to let it sit on top of his head, revealing the cringe on his face.

Aerith exhaled. “I second you, Reno. Babe, we could have gone to Costa Del Sol!” she complained, gesturing with both of her hands on her hips.

Closing the door to the passenger seats, the driver – a local, Cloud presumed from his accent, made his thoughts known, “Lady, this town may not be a Costa Del Sol but give it a chance! You’ll be surprised by what it can offer.”

“Listen to the man! This place is ideal for the weekend, trust me!” Zack asserted.

A look of scepticism hung over her face, “You sure it’s not just because of your geologist curiosity?”

Zack sighed. “Well… yeah, partly,” an answer that sent not only Cloud, but also Zack’s typically reticent colleague, Tseng, chuckling in amusement. “But Mideel really is a great place. It may be small but it’s a great place to relax! And that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Aerith crossed her arms and pouted. Cloud knew that it would not take long for her to back down. She may be as stubborn as her fiancé, but often times, he had a knack for coaxing her into agreeing with him. He could not pinpoint why exactly – not even she could.

She turned to the other ladies, her companions for her bachelorette retreat – Elena, her close friend from college; Cissnei, her assistant at her florist shop, and Tifa. “Ladies, I love this man, so I’ll trust him. I apologize in advance if this trip ends up to be a snooze fest,” she declared, to which the ladies laugh off.

Zack took them to a residential housing that had its front porch decorated with pots of various green plants that left Aerith in awe. After Zack made a few knocks on the front door, an elderly man with sunken eyes and grey spots all over his skin came out and greeted him in the friendliest of demeanour. He introduced the man as Mr. Levi, the person who looked after him and Tseng during their last stay for some fieldwork at Mideel. Mrs. Levi, an elderly woman with a deeply hunched back, came out a few minutes after, greeted Zack in the same welcoming manner as her husband before leading the ladies to another lodging that was three buildings away.

“Have fun, ladies! See you soon, babe!” Zack yelled, waving at them and laughed when Aerith stuck her tongue out in response.

Tifa waved too at Cloud, and he returned in the same way. He could almost feel Zack’s smirk on his back.

***

The pinkish-blue hue of dusk had already coalesced into the total darkness of the night sky when Cloud and the rest of his companions were returning to their lodging after an entire day of touring the town – a warming up activity for Zack’s bachelor retreat. Changed into their swimming trunks, they left again carrying portable cool boxes containing fresh meat and vegetables and cans of beer they had purchased from the town’s only butcher and grocery store. Following Zack’s lead, they tread the pathway that would lead them further into forested and uninhabited areas of the town. Moderately chilly summer wind gently rocked lofty green trees and plants, inducing a rain of wilting leaves – some they stepped underneath the rubber soles of their slippers, creating crushing noises that echoed. Birds sang tunes to one another, while Zack talked about a beautiful ‘secret’ area that he and Tseng used to spend many hours at for their research.

They made several twist and turns along the pathway, until they reached an area containing an element that instantly caught Cloud’s eyes. It was a lake, larger than the one beneath the populated part of town and lucent in blue and green colours of the healing mineral rocks from Mount Nibel, the mountain behind his childhood hometown. At the edge of the lake was a dock that was connected to the pathway they were on and a roofed pavilion serving as a rest area, and also where they set their cool boxes down. Cloud watched as Zack and Reno dashed through the dock, and heard their hearty cheers as they plunged headfirst into the lake.

“Cloud! Tseng! Come on in!” Zack beckoned, to which both of them obliged.

In the water, Cloud floated his body backwards with both eyes closed and strayed far from his companions, preferring to be on his own.

“Hey! What are you doing here?!” Reno’s skirmish with someone broke his moment of reverie.

When he turned to check on the focus of Reno’s hostility, he found Aerith hurling herself into the water and diving in the direction towards Zack. When she resurfaced, Zack pulled her closer to him as she said, “Sorry, I don’t think I can stay away from him.”

Seeing Aerith brought Cloud’s mind to think of only one other person… and as though his mere thoughts had summon her, she appeared behind Cissnei and Elena on the dock. Tifa had on her a red bikini set that was not only flattering for her toned physique, but also accentuating the redness of her pupils. He knew her corporeal charm was not lost to the rest of those present with him. He saw the smiles of approval exchanged between Aerith and Zack, and the looks of awestruck on Elena, Cissnei and Tseng’s faces; and he heard a brief whistle blown by Reno who somehow forgot about Rude, the colleague (and lover) he left behind at Midgar. A tinge of possessiveness bubbled inside him… and a part of him wished she was not there for the rest of them to see. It dissipated when he saw her swimming right to him as soon as she joined them in the water.

“Hey you,” he greeted her with a smile, and blushing out of joy because she singled him out first. “How is it with Aerith and the others so far?”

She chuckled, “Aerith’s in a high spirit. It rubs on the rest of us.”

“That’s good.”

Pointing a finger at the sky, she said, “The sky reminds me of nights in Nibelheim. We used to catch fireflies at the mountain and I would always look up, on our way home, to watch the stars twinkling. I think a lot of us kids did. Do you remember?”

Her words transported him to the laughter of kids back at his hometown, with their clothes and hands stained with dirt; their excitement as they carried glass jars of fireflies, only to be met, every now and then, with the wrath of their parents who were upset because they were up so late and had gone to the mountain. He remembered them all… except that he was not part of it. He only used to watch them.

“Yeah, I remember but… I wasn’t part of the group of kids,” he confessed.

“You weren’t?”

He shook his head. “No… after my dad died, I sort of just put a distance between me and the rest of the kids… including you, maybe.”

“Oh I see,” there was a trace of sympathy in her tone that she did not express in words. “I get it. I was the same after my mother died.”

It was a heavy subject that neither of them want to broach any further. The silence filled instead with the gazes and comforting smiles they gave to one another, as though they were transgressing through time to offer solace to their younger selves and making up for all the lost years when they were not in each other’s lives.

***

Swimming in the lake, barbeque nights at the pavilion and watching music performances at the only café in town – these were how Cloud and his companions mainly spent their time for the remaining days left for Zack and Aerith’s bachelor and bachelorette weekend. When Zack chose to collect sediment samples, or Aerith went to pick wild medicinal plants, the rest of them were free to go about the town on their own. It was within these times that Cloud would find the opportunity to hang around Tifa. They would walk around town, and she would talk about how she ended up becoming a pastry chef, her experiences during culinary school, or her muses for all her creations. In return, he would tell her about him randomly sending an application to a contemporary dance school and developing a sudden drive to become a professional dancer, the exercises he had to do to maintain his dancing posture, or his dance routines. Zack and Aerith were right. The retreat was helping him get closer to her faster than the two months he had. It gave them more time to spend with each other, as opposed to having to check their schedules first before deciding to meet.

When the last day of the weekend arrived, Cloud felt a longing that sent him hopeful that time would slow down – to no avail. Zack and Aerith had disappeared to another secret spot within town that he refused to disclose to the rest of them, so the crew decided to spend their last night with Mr. and Mrs. Levi. Cloud opted out in favour of spending more time by the lake, where he would then sat at the far edge of the dock, with his legs dipping into the water and headphones covering his ears. Another figure soon joined him, to his pleasant surprise.

“I’ve decided to dip out too,” Tifa said, with a wink. “What are you up to?”

He smiled, “I thought I should try to come up with some sets of choreography.”

“It’s the lake, isn’t it? It just brings out some sort of creative energy from you.”

“Yeah, it does,” Cloud replied, glad that they were on the same page about something again. “You’re trying to come up with some cakes and pastries too?”

“…Sort of,” she answered, a little tentative, as though she had some other reason that she would not tell. Then she looked at the sky and muttered, “There are no stars tonight.”

Recalling the weather forecasted by the morning news meteorologist, he told her, “I think it’s going to rain.”

No longer than a few seconds after he uttered the last word, they felt tiny drops of water on their skin, which quickly became a downpour that had him running and pulling her into the pavilion for shelter. 

She laughed. “You could have waited much longer before calling for the rain!”

“I need you to believe me,” he said, humouring her. On glancing at her, an amused smile was formed on his lips when he saw the trails of black smudgy drips below her eyes and along her cheeks.

He saw the way her face changed when she finally realized why he was smiling. Flustering, she started wiping at areas on her face that she thought were affected. “Urgh! I thought the mascara’s waterproof.”

“Let me help you with it.”

He stood before her and started gently rubbing his thumbs over the smudgy drips to clean them. He would know if it was ticklish to her when she tittered, and it would make him reflexively smile. His eyes took note of every aspect of her facial profile… until they landed on her supple soft pink lips. On other days, doing so would have made him blush but there was something about that night, with them being at a beautiful site reminiscent of their hometown, the heavy showers of rain that left them drenched and reliant on one another’s company, and the feel of her skin under his thumbs that spurred a certain kind of courage in him to _own_ all of his feelings towards her. When he looked up and saw the softness reflected from her eyes that were as red as the cosmos which grew only on the fields of Mount Corel once every ten years… he knew he could not pass the chance to kiss her.

So he leaned his head closer to her, and when she showed no signs of retreating away, pressed his lips against hers with utmost care. It was delicate at first, until the touch of her palms as she held the back of his neck, the feeling of her hot breath on his face and the quickening of his beating heart made him locked lips with her in an urgent manner that sent him trembling and feeling like he was soaring above the clouds. The rain was pelting on the tiled roof of the pavilion, generating noises that muted the sounds of their kisses and pants. Cloud was not sure whether it was him or her that kept wanting more from the other. When he felt her hand on his chest slightly pushing him away, he was brought back to earth and pulled away to break the kiss.

“…It’s getting late. I think we should head back,” he heard her mumble.

And then she walked away without looking back, as though nothing happened, leaving him restless with the ghostly feel of her skin on his hands and lips and a mind full of questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a homage to the Lifestream sequence ;) 
> 
> And yes, Reno's bi. Maybe everyone is! I didn't make the rules.


	4. A Heart to Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a whole lot more dramatic than the rest. I mean... what is life without a little bit of drama (and angst!), right? ;)

The late summer cool wind gently oscillated the cream-coloured drapes hanging over an open bay window of a dimmed bedroom. The neighbourhood was quiet, except for the sound of nightly singing insects, the meowing of cats and the rustling of properly maintained lush bushes at residential lawns. On bed, Tifa lied awake with eyes fixed on the ceiling and a mind full of thoughts so jumbled that they sent her temples throbbing in pain. When she turned back and forth to either of her sides, the silky bedsheet clinging onto her skin felt oppressive, as though she was confined in a box instead of tucked in the comfort of her bedroom. In her stillness, she ran a forefinger on her cheeks and lips to relieve the tingling sensations of an unearthly presence that someone left there some few days ago.

Cloud had kissed her. She let him kissed her until it felt like her heart could leap out of her chest and her mind lost in a sea of psychedelic-like rush. She wanted more… until feelings of regret took hold of her rationality. She was not supposed to let him _too_ far in but she knew, the night when they sat side by side eating their Entremets, he has made a place somewhere in the deep corners of her heart; and the thought frightened her.

She recalled the sight of her mother in a hospice, weakened by abnormal cell growths that had invaded most of her body parts from within. On a particular rainy Monday morning, Tifa held onto her mother’s hand and watched as her life gradually slipped away. Eight years later, she returned from her martial arts class to a hometown blazing in fire. It was like the ground had disintegrated to reactivate dormant fires from hell that exist beneath the surface and swallowing the whole town. She remembered walking through thick smog that she inhaled and tasted in her throat as she yelled her father’s name. It felt like she could die there and then, but it did not matter, so long as she was able to find her father – but she was not able to. The smell of charred woods and bodies, and the sight of her lifeless father in a black bag at a morgue haunted her for so many years, until she learned baking was the best way for her to cope.

Then she met Biggs, Jessie and Wedge, a trio of silly childhood friends at culinary school. They were inseparable, like flesh with fingernails; wherever the trio was, she would be there too. On their final year at culinary school, Jessie and Biggs decided to drive off to the Bone Village, somewhere north of Midgar, for a party. Neither Wedge nor she could get hold of them until the next morning, when a phone call informed them that Biggs’s car was found submerged in the sea. Biggs was heavily drunk when he drove the car and hauled it off the bridge connecting the village to the city, leaving Tifa and Wedge with no one but each other to mourn for their deceased friends. Again, Tifa drowned herself in the art of baking, in their honour, until the pain of remembrance became more tolerable as years went by.

She thought that would be the last of her heartaches. But time had proven her wrong.

She was twenty-one when she met _him_ , a client who hired her to create a dessert palate for a party celebrating his two-year anniversary with his beloved. When he found out that she was having an affair with someone at work after a few months into their engagement, Tifa opened her arms and heart to him as he sought her for comfort. They were to a certain extent different in character, but it was his maturity and calmness that she found most attractive. Tifa thought they would spend the rest of their lives together… until he chose to walk out and reconcile with his beloved, leaving her with a heartbreak so severe that she had to mentally barricade herself from letting anyone into her life so easily. Only her old friend Wedge, Denzel – a boy she fostered, and Yuffie – a young girl whose refreshing company she appreciated, were allowed to remain in her life.

Cloud was an anomaly, allowed to happen by a moment (or rather moments) of recklessness. He had no clue about her real past because she had given him an embellished version of it. She closed her eyes and thought about the kiss they had in the rain again; she thought about how distressed he must have felt when she left him alone in the pavilion without a word.

Her heart was in knots, as the voice in her head was telling her, _I always lose them_.

***

On the entrance doors hung a sign indicating that the Lockhart Patisserie was closed. Lights in the dining areas were switched off; tables and chairs were wiped clean, and display shelves were empty of products. Customers who wanted to do last minute purchases would arrive in front of the store and sighed in disappointment for their missed chances. At the back of the store, the kitchen area remained alight with two figures still lingering around. Tifa was by the counter, preparing a set of items for the night’s baking session with her companion – Cloud. Sometimes, she would take several glances at him as he put on his apron and rolled up his sleeves. It was yet another one of her personal lessons with him, and it was going to be on creating one of the many simpler pastries – donuts with fillings. She had refused to bring the session to her home – an effort to shift their relationship into a more professional level, and she knew Cloud noticed; it felt more awkward than usual to be around him.

“So… should we start now?” she asked when he finally made his way to her side, to which he nodded in response.

She began the session with her supervising him as he whisked a snowy white powdery blend made out of flour, sugar, instant yeast and salt in a large mixing bowl. When she was satisfied with the outcome of the whisking, she instructed him to add another set of ingredients, to which he followed. She observed, amused by his grit, as he whisked the blend again with all his might until it became liquefied and yellow in colour.

Covering the mixing bowl with a plastic wrap, she told him, “Now we’re going to let it rest for at least… ten minutes.”

The kitchen timer was ticking; the sound of shops closing off and people talking or saying goodbye to one another could be heard from outside. Cloud was standing a few feet away from her, arms crossed against his chest. The deafening silence between them was unnerving enough to push her into thinking of something to talk about with him. 

“…How’s it going with Aerith and Zack?”

He smiled, but rather flatly, “Oh… they’re doing fine. Excited actually, about the wedding. The preparation is almost done.” He lifted his eyebrows as he asked, “How’s it going with the pastries and cake? You got them all sorted out?”

“I think I’m doing great. All the ingredients that I need will be stocked in within this week and I’ve made a sketch of what the final product of the cake would look like. Do you want to see it?”

When he inched closer to her, she took out her notebook from a cabinet and showed him a drawing she made of Zack and Aerith’s three-tiered wedding cake. At the sight of it, the corners of his lips lifted into a genuine smile. “Tifa… that looks really _chic_.” Then he looked at her as he said, “And for some reason, I know it’ll taste great.”

Flattered by how highly he thought of her creations, she laughed and felt her cheeks growing warmer. The kitchen timer rang, moving Tifa to uncover the mixing bowl, revealing a blend with a creamier consistency. “We need to add some flour so we can knead it,” she advised.

It made her giggle when his face twisted in disgust as he was kneading the blend into a dough. “You really can’t deal with wet food, huh!”

He exhaled, and she smirked. “Better get used to it!”

Realizing that the dough was still soft, she instructed him to dust in more flour to make it firmer. She watched as the dough rolled around under his hands – his fingers… and was reminded once again of the feel of his touch on her cheeks.

She shook her head. _Focus, Tifa!_ She scolded herself.

Leaving the mixing bowl containing the dough in the oven for it to double in size, Tifa took him into the office and served him a cup of coffee. She could tell that he was feeling much more at ease than he did when he arrived at the patisserie’s kitchen some few hours ago. He started talking about the lessons he was giving to Aerith and Zack, so they could dance on their wedding day – the kind of music he used, the dance moves, the number of training sessions and how difficult it was to get the lovebirds to match their movements as they dance.

He would make her laugh with his many complains, one of them being “Zack is just having a really hard time of getting it!”

They were carried away by their conversations like they normally would. Techno music coming from nearby nightclubs, the honking and roaring engines of cars; drunks puking at the streets, boisterous exchange of banters among groups of youngsters on a night out – all were nothing but background noises that they paid no attention to. The presence of one another was all that they were aware of. When their forty-five minutes of wait was over, Tifa wished that it could have lasted longer… but they had to return to their dough and resume their baking session.

They did a couple more finishing steps, until it was time to bake the donuts into a light golden colour. When it came down to adding the fillings, they had disagreements over the flavour and spent quite a while trying to convince each other that one or the other choice was better. She gave in by letting him have his strawberry jam, and the look of triumph on his face reminded her of a child who came home proudly from a fishing trip with a bucket full of fish. It made her titter. 

“These… really taste like home,” he said after taking a bite. There was tenderness reflected in his eyes. “My mother used to make strawberry jam pies back in Nibelheim.”

His words evoked a certain memory to her mind. “Oh wait! You’re the son of Mrs. Claudia!” When his smile affirmed to her that her guess was correct, she said, “All the neighbourhood parents used to buy those pies from your place! It was my favourite too.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, she love making and selling those pies. I’m glad you love them too.”

When Cloud turned to look at her, she felt a current coursing through her body. It would eventually make its way out of her to fill in the space between them, just so it would somehow be able to reach him. It was like their souls were connecting in one way or another, bringing a sense of longing that was steadily spreading throughout her entire being…

_Can I… really let him go?_ She found herself asking.

Her gaze then fell onto something at the corner of his lips. “There’s jam near your mouth,” she told him, gesturing with her finger.

He wiped with the back of his hand, removing most but not all of it. “Is it still there?”

As though it was the most natural thing to do, she reached out to dab what was left with her own thumb. “There. It’s all gone now,” she said with a smile.

The look on Cloud’s face made her quickly realized what she had done. It was a kind of _hunger_ – the same one she saw in the rain; the same one she felt through her skin, her flesh, and her bones. She wanted to reach out and touch him again…

…But she had to make it stop. So she backed away, hoping the distance could dispel the intensity that was hanging in the air between them. “This… will be my last lesson for you, Cloud,” was what she managed to say when she found her voice again.

He leaned himself against the counter, as though he needed it for support. “Oh… why? Did work get too busy for you?”

“No… it’s just… it’s almost the end of summer and I thought it would be best for us to end the personal lessons here. For the rest of the week I’ll be busy making preparations for the wedding,” she said, swallowing every now and then the aching lump that was stuck in her throat.

He was quiet for some time, seemingly trying his best to collect his thoughts. Then he nodded. “Ok… I get it.”

His eyes soon trailed to the wall clock hanging near the kitchen door. It was two in the morning and he used it as a pretext to make his exit. Tifa did not take it to heart; she was glad that he wanted to go home. Any minute longer could make her heart waver.

***

“With the blessings of the Cetras, protectors of Gaia and bringers of humankind to the Promised Land, I’ve now decreed that you’re bounded to one another as husband and wife from here on.”

Outside a farmhouse located a few minutes away from Midgar, the green grasses shimmered under the morning late summer sun, the trees were lush with ripe peaches, plums and lychees; and birds merrily sang tunes as though they too were commemorating the blissful day. A wedding aisle was set up, lined with bouquets of white and yellow flowers picked from the field behind the church in Midgar’s old city. At the altar stood Aerith in her long pastel pink tulle bridal gown, holding hands with Zack, her groom dressed in a matching pastel pink vest and a quirky bowtie patterned with black and pink polka dots. They were beaming and gazing into one another’s watery eyes, overwhelmed by what they just heard from the old wise man leading their wedding ceremony. Cheers from their guests clamoured throughout the farm, further livening up the jubilant atmosphere.

With the ceremony over, everyone present was ushered to another area filled with long tables serving food buffets, and another set of tables and chairs for them to dine at. Tifa observed with delight the smiles that were brought on people’s faces as they munched on the pastries that she created and prepared with her team. The three-tiered cake was soon rolled out, inducing gasps of surprise and awe out of Aerith and Zack.

“Come here, Tifa!” Zack called out to her, eagerly waving an arm to capture her attention. When she arrived by their side, the newlyweds announced to the rest of those attending the wedding that she was the creator of their cake and dessert palate, encouraging rows of people already familiar with her name to come up to her and gave praises and compliments.

An hour went by, with most of the guests’ plates almost empty of food, Aerith’s foster mother, Elmyra appeared with a mic in hand to tell that it would not be long before a dance session would commence. Guests watched as Aerith and Zack led the session with their waltz that were the fruit of Cloud’s labour. The end of the waltz was met with their applause and the newlyweds invited them all to join along. At a corner, Tifa stood by watching, with a glass of white wine and passively listening to the dance music, an instrumental version of a song that she knew was sung by Rufus Shinra.

The sudden appearance of Aerith and Cloud who seemed to be forcefully dragged along commanded her heed. “Tifa, come and dance with Cloud!” Aerith said, slightly pushing Cloud to get him closer to her.

“…Sure,” she countered with a hesitant reply, while feigning a smile.

Under Aerith’s watchful eyes, she took the hand that Cloud offered to her before he pulled them into the group crowding the dancing zone. When in position, she placed both of her hands onto his shoulders and felt his gentle hold on her hips. Her pair of red eyes met his pair of deep blue with some kind of resoluteness as they swayed themselves alternately from left to right. The places where he was holding her felt warm... enough for her to secretly wish his fingertips were not separated from her skin by the fabric of her silver cocktail dress, so she could feel more of him…

“Sorry… she could be a little pushy sometimes,” he apologized, referring to Aerith.

She shook her head. “It’s alright.” Her eyes swiftly landed on the comical bowtie patterned with cartoon frogs that was pinned on his collar. “That’s a really cute bowtie you have there.”

He chuckled. “Aerith insisted on the design.” With a rosy smile, he said again, “I was right about your cake… it does taste great.”

Tifa was used to getting showered with admirations for her work because she was confident about her ability. Yet, there was something about Cloud’s compliment, shared in a hushed tone meant for only her to know that made her blush as if she was receiving it for the first time. “Thank you,” she told him bashfully.

They danced in silence for some time, until he decided to broach a subject that both of them seemed to not want to discuss since it happened a week ago. “Tifa, I… know I said I understand your decision to stop the personal baking lessons. But truthfully… I don’t want any of this to end,” he professed, looking at her with earnest eyes. “I want to keep seeing you. I want us to continue being friends.”

When she gave no comeback, he continued in stammers, “In fact I… I’m going to be honest and say I want us to be more than friends because I-” he cut himself off midsentence but she knew what he wanted to say.

_He likes me… a lot_ , she thought.

“Would you… reconsider?” he finally asked, with a tone that sounded like he was clinging onto a profound sense of hope.

A week ago, Tifa was certain about ending their amiable relationship. She was convinced that it would be good for her; that she did it to safeguard her heart. But the days she spent away from him, pining alone in bed at night for his company got her to rethink her decision. Many times she questioned if it was worth losing someone she was able to bond with almost _too_ effortlessly. And each time, she would come out with the same answer: it was worth it, for her heart – for her well-being. Then there he was, standing in front of her. The frankness in his eyes made it hard for her not to waver.

So she gave him the only answer that she could muster, “I’ll think about it, Cloud…”

The music ended, suggesting the end of the dance session. Cloud pulled his hands away and by the look on his face, Tifa could tell that what she said was not what he wanted to hear. Still, she chose not to give him further reassurances, so as to discourage him from keeping false hopes. A maroon red car pulled up by the side of the road, turning heads including hers and Cloud’s. Two figures – a man and a woman, stepped out wearing formal attires fit for attending events like a wedding; Tifa assumed they were latecomers. The pair approached the wedding party and their profiles became progressively more discernible. 

Tifa could feel her heart stopping.

A phantom from her past had reappeared and stood towering over her. He still wore the same musky perfume that she used to smell a lot on her bedsheet whenever he left after spending the night before at her place. The memory almost made her vomit. “Tifa, is that you?” his voice was still low and husky; it used to make her tremble whenever he whispered sweet nothings in her ears.

“…Nice to see you again, Vincent,” she had not uttered that name since three years ago. It felt like poison on her tongue.

“How are you doing?” he had the audacity to ask.

Tifa coerced herself to smile. “Great. Baking as always. And you?”

“I’m doing great too. I’m working with Tuesti Corporation now,” he said, in which she learned that he had taken her advice about leaving his previous workplace. When he turned to his companion, a beautiful brunette – a woman she was all too familiar with, he told her, “Lucrecia and I are having our second child now.”

The air was becoming stifling and Tifa was tightly clenching her hands into fists, draining blood away from her knuckles. “…Congratulations,” she managed to tell him, through gritted teeth.

She heard him thanked her, before Zack came and greeted him. She listened as he apologized to Zack for being late and talked about being held back at work – that was how she knew they were colleagues. The subject of their conversation shifted to about their acquaintanceship with her; she heard Zack praising her baking expertise, and Vincent concurring. When they left, people started crowding around her again. They tried to talk with her but she was too distracted to be properly engaged. She was focused on only one particular person… 

Tifa may be the centre of so many people’s attention but… when she looked at the ring around Lucrecia’s finger and the bump hiding underneath her blowy dress… it made her feel small. Everything was a blur after that. She could only remember asking Cloud to send her home and their agonisingly quiet car ride.

On their arrival outside her house, she was about to leave when Cloud called her name.

And she hastily shut him down, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Cloud.”

“Why are you apologizing?” she could hear the fear in his voice.

“I can’t do this, Cloud. I really can’t,” she countered. Before he could even say anything in reply, she stepped out and marched right into her home.

That night, she delivered a text message telling him that she did not want to see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't despair... it'll get better for these two, hopefully.


	5. Bonbons of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the final chapter! Sorry that this update took so long. I wanted it to be as soft and tender as it possibly could!

Dull red and brown leaves strewn all over the ground grew radiant by golden rays from the sun. Chilly gusts of wind left trees shaking and sprinkles of water falling from wet leaves. Residues from the prior pre-dawn rain mingled with the taints of urban life, leaving the smell of earth and industrial smog to permeate the heavily moisturized air. A number of food trucks parked at designated areas catered to raising demand for hot food and drinks. Figures walking along the streets that used to dress in scanty attires to combat the summer heat had switched to wearing long coats and scarves; most were complaining about the increasingly cold weather to one another. At the front yard of Evergreen Apartments, a gardener in a washed out green coverall gathered fallen leaves into several piles with a leaf blower.

Inside the bedroom of apartment 1510, the dark blue curtains remained closed, in spite of the daylight commotions. Tucked underneath a cushiony duvet covered in a grey and white tartan bedding was Cloud. With the gardener coming closer to the area outside his room, the noise from the leaf blower was becoming louder. Half-asleep and irritated, Cloud grumbled as he placed another pillow onto his exposed ear. It was another Saturday… two weeks since Tifa told him not to see her again. He went on with his life but entered autumn with the same gloom he was feeling during the last few days of summer. It was like he was living with the alternative body of his former self – the self that he stepped out from and left somewhere, since he received the final text message from her.

Nothing seemed to lift his spirit. Work (and dancing) was no longer enjoyable and uninspiring, going out with his friends only left him feeling crossed at the thought of how he no longer would be spending his spare times with Tifa; reckless casual hook ups with both men and women could not shut down his longing to see her again and sweet food – the usual antidote to his blues and what was supposed to be his last resort, only reminded him of her. So he decided to stop searching for ways to feel better again and retreat into solitude whenever he could.

 _Things will get better – I’ll feel better someday_ , he kept telling himself.

Something was ringing and it took a while for Cloud to recognise that it was the sound of the doorbell. When the ringing paused, he heard a few aggressive knocks made on the entrance door. Fumbling around angrily in his bed, he groaned again out of utmost reluctance to answer whoever it was that came to his place. He chose to stay in bed with hopes that the ringing and knocking would die down, and sighed with relief when they did. But then he heard the door swung open and a familiar voice calling his name. He cussed himself for forgetting to lock his door. As he anticipated, the visiting person walked into his room.

“What the hell, Cloud?” Zack was not his usual mirthful self.

Cloud did not bother to respond.

“How long are you going to keep acting like this?” sheer exasperation coated the sound of Zack’s voice as he probed.

Cloud’s response was short and curt. “Leave me alone.”

He heard Zack pulling the swivel chair from the work desk and the sound of its rollers gliding against the laminate flooring as he brought it closer to the bed. “No, I’m not going to leave you alone until we figure out how you’re going to deal with this.”

Cloud uncovered the duvet from his head, revealing a disgruntled look on his face. “There’s nothing I can do, Zack. She doesn’t want to see me again,” he groaned and felt his heart ached as he spoke the last sentence.

“I know, Cloud,” Zack said with a tone suggesting that he was hurt for Cloud too. “But have you tried asking her _why_?”

He never did. He was too paralysed by fear of more rejection to ask, even if he knew that her answers might bring some sort of closure for him. “…I just can’t, Zack.”

Zack sighed and his lips arched into a caring smile. “Just try, Cloud.” When his words were met with Cloud’s silence and hesitancy, he said again, “It’s been two weeks… you’ve given her enough space and time to think things through and talk.”

The corners of Cloud’s eyes began to burn, so he closed them. “I don’t know… I don’t think she’ll ever want to talk to me again.”

“You don’t know until you try,” Zack replied. “Aaaaand if she doesn’t, I’ll be here to cheer you up and take your mind off of her once and for all!”

From outside, he heard the sound of bicycle bells chiming as cyclists passed by the road in front of the apartments; someone living a few doors away was at her balcony and speaking on the phone, footsteps shuffled across the corridors as more people came out of their rooms, and there were jarring shrieks coming from little children happily playing in the playground below. The racket was filling in the stillness of his bedroom.

***

Within the concrete jungle of towering buildings in Sector 6 of Midgar’s new city, a long white train with a strip of neon blue on its roof was in operation according to schedule. Its wheels rattled against the rail tracks, creating slight motions that could be felt by its occupants. Inside, as it gradually departed away from Midgar, wide side windows offered glimpses of a scenery that shifted from a sea of grey buildings to vast dull green and brown prairies. A digital indicator hanging on the ceiling listed names of places that the train would be passing until the end of its journey: Junon, Gold Saucer, North Corel and Rocket Town.

On a green leather couch, Tifa sat with a messy bun on top of her head and wireless earbuds plugged into her ears. Holding her with a gaze from his pair of oceanic blue eyes was Cloud, who sat directly across her and separated only by a rectangular table. A concoction of emotions was engulfing him. There was his incredulity over sharing the same space with Tifa again; relief that she gave him the chance to do so, and awe at the breathtaking sight of her that he had been yearning to see again throughout the weeks before. Questions lingered at the tip of his tongue and ready to spring out of his mouth, only to be held back by his reservations.

“Cloud… You’re going to burn a hole through me,” Tifa said quietly, her eyes fixed at the view outside the train.

Heat spread through his cheeks as he apologized, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to stare.” He turned his head down and started playing with his thumbs. “How… are you?”

After unplugging the earbuds from her ears, he could feel her eyes on him. “I’m fine… Busy as always.” When he glanced at her, she had a mellow smile on her face. “Thank you, Cloud… for bringing me along.”

An urge to reach out and touch her hand simmered inside him, so he bit his bottom lip to gain more sense of control. “No… thank _you_ for agreeing to come along.”

The train made a stop at a station in Junon and they watched as streams of people entered and left through the open doors. Beeping sounds could be heard as the doors were closing, until an announcement was made about the train moving to its next destination. The train passed through a dark tunnel for some time, before inducing a series of gasps out of its occupants when it emerged into an area offering a boundless underwater landscape from outside its windows. A group of dolphins swam by and Cloud fondly observed as Tifa girlishly giggled with an eagerness that he could tell she was trying her best to contain.

“I can’t wait to check out the festival,” she said, mentioning the purpose of their trip. “It’s always nice to learn about different pastries and cakes from outside Midgar.”

“And maybe it will help you with creating your autumn cakes and pastries,” Cloud countered, recalling the entremets she made last summer.

His remark made her smile. Tucking some strands of hair behind her ear and looking away sheepishly, she murmured, “I’m glad you remember.”

He looked away, growing flustered too. One part of him wished that he had not brought up the entremets, thinking that he _must_ have sounded too full of himself. The other part of him had the pace of his beating heart quickened by joy over her reaction that seemed to hint that she still harboured some special feelings for him.

***

Muddy soil dirtied the shoe soles of those who thread through the small township of Rocket Town. Brown tiles covered in moss roofed brick houses that seemed to be stuck in their own time. Far behind, a rusty landmark of an old abandoned rocket stood leaning slightly to the right above the ground. On the streets, Cloud and Tifa scurried about for more than an hour, looking for a cab to drive them to their final destination. They flagged cars and approached town residents to ask for help until they met a heavy pipe smoker named Cid, who was generous enough to give them a wobbly ride on an uneven road full of potholes in his yellow pick-up truck. Billows of smoke puffed out by Cid clogged the air, as he sang along the hillbillies blaring from the radio speakers. Cloud made no attempt to hide his disdain when he rolled down his side window and stuck his head out to breathe in fresh air from outside.

Ten minutes into the ride, a row of familiar mountains was becoming visible. When nearing a silver metal arch bearing the word ‘Nibelheim’, Tifa pleaded for Cid to stop the truck. Cloud saw the look of dread on her face and immediately understood, for he too was feeling it. He had been attending therapy sessions just to cope with memories about the tragedy that transpired in his childhood hometown. The revival of Nibelheim was made to reel its surviving residents back in but Cloud could not even listen to news about it without instantly changing the channel, or turning off the television or radio. The only reason why he had the guts to return was because he knew Tifa would be by his side.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he reassured her.

Tifa vehemently shook her head. “No, we have to go. It’s now or never.”

The smell of baking bread wafting in the air greeted them as soon as they stepped out of the truck, and a jolly song could be heard reverberating from a distance. When Tifa gave him a nod – a cue for them to keep walking, Cloud followed. They passed by a huge banner welcoming visitors to join the town’s autumn solstice pastry festival, and under the silver metal arch, until they reached an area lined with wooden food booths. Scanning his eyes through what used to be the place where he spent most of his childhood at, Cloud recognized that the old Nibelheim that was always sitting in a corner at the back of his mind was no longer in existence.

White hexagon-shaped bricks covered pedestrian pavements that used to be grey cobblestones, cottage and country houses with red tile roofs were all replaced by modern two-storey semi-detached houses; in the middle of the town square, a water fountain functioned at a spot that was once occupied by a water tower, the huge white mansion was gone, and noticeable small patches of grass were lush and green, as if the fire that destroyed the town ten years ago never happened. The sight was, to a certain extent, an ease for Cloud, as he did not have to witness details that might set off his panic. But some other feelings took hold of him too – one of anger and sadness. He wanted to berate those who chose to bury his old Nibelheim beneath a new façade bent on rewriting the town’s history. When he looked at Tifa, the same feelings of sadness and anger were reflected in her eyes; it made him want to take her away – away from the appalling town.

The loud peddling of a middle-aged woman wearing a blue bandana and an apron interfered with his thoughts. Her hands were powdery with white flour. “Hey you, lovebirds! Come and have a taste of these breads. You can only find these babies here!”

Tifa tugged on the hem of his shirt, and when he turned, the look on her face beckoned him to come along with her. So he obliged, and walked with her until they reached the woman’s booth. The woman offered them both samples of her trade – puffy breads riddled with holes. Tifa studied the bread’s formation and remarked with a smile, “They are beautiful.”

The woman beamed. “Many thanks, love. These are my family’s legacy!”

Cloud flinched; the woman’s words did not sit well with him. He thought of how it could have been the people he grew up with that would be selling their family’s legacies at the booth… One bite from his bread, and Cloud took note of its chewy texture and sour taste. He was convinced that it may easily be one of the best breads he had ever tasted in his life, and the notion upset him more. When he peeked at Tifa, there was a smile on her face that did not reach the expression from her eyes.

“Do you mind sharing how it’s done?” she probed, only to be met by the woman’s laughter and insistence about how the recipe was supposed to be a family secret. Tifa laughed with her too, but Cloud knew it was not her usual hearty laugh – she was holding something back and he had a hunch it was the same uneasy feelings that were bottling in him too.

Giggling children ran past, carrying balloons by strings in their hands, a swarm of people holding different types of bread walked by as they sought for resting spots; the playlist of songs blasting from the loudspeakers repeated itself all over again, food sellers continued to peddle their trade at the top of their lungs, and cold autumn wind made people pull their coats closer to their bodies. Tifa continued to lead the way as they visited the rest of the booths, sometimes he would. She was better at maintaining a mask of interest than he was, so much so that when they went to the plain between the town and the foot of Mount Nibel – the only thing belonging to the town that was left untouched, he heard her expel gusts of her breath, releasing what was unsaid into the wind.

They sauntered through the plain, careful with not stepping on the pink dianthuses that grew wildly and in abundance, until they found an area where they could sit on and have their lunch. Paper bags crunched in their hands as they pushed out the Paninis they purchased from a pair of siblings selling outside a building that used to be where his home was.

“It’s… kind of weird to be here, huh. Whatnot with how different things are,” she said, with some tentativeness. She was finally making her genuine feelings about being in the town known to him. Cloud wondered about what else she was keeping from him.

He chuckled nervously. “Yeah… I feel like a fish out of water, even if we’re both from here.”

Following what he said, he could tell that Tifa wanted to say something in return. Instead, she kept her quiet, choosing not to reply. For a while, they munched on their Paninis without sharing as little as a word between one another.

Tifa paused, then rested her hands onto her lap. “…You must be wondering why I did what I did.”

Cloud halted too, before slowly lifting his eyes to bring them to look at her. He swallowed and said, “You… don’t have to tell if you don’t want to.” He wanted to know. He was _dying_ to know. But he refused to make her feel as if she _has_ to tell him.

She turned her head down to avoid his gaze. Her voice trembled when she told him, “Ha… you’re thinking about me again, even now.”

What came after was not what he expected. He was not sure what led to it; perhaps, she planned on telling him all along, or perhaps being in a place that was in a way denying their shared bygone days made Tifa more willing to open up to him… he could not tell. She told him everything: about how she lost her mother at a young age, her father during the fire, and her best friends while she was still in culinary school… as well as the tall man they met during Zack and Aerith’s wedding, and how he broke her heart. It all came out of her without any stops, as if she had waited a long time for someone to hear them all. By the time she finished, she was in tears and he watched in agony as she tried to harshly wipe them away, to no avail. 

Sniffing, she bent her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I was being… unfair to you and I’m sorry.”

Cloud sighed. He was angry at himself for not reaching out far earlier than he should. But… he was glad that she showed him a part of her that she stowed away for no one to see, except for _him_. “Tifa… thank you for telling me,” it was all that he managed to say, while holding back his own tears.

“You are too nice, Cloud. Stop it!” she wailed, the loudness of her voice lowered by both of her hands that were covering her face.

When he heard her crying again, he laughed. He stopped to call out to her, “Tifa, listen…” Once she put her hands down to show him her swollen face, he told her, “You’re scared… just like how scared I am of whatever will happen to us someday but…” He paused, and a tender smile shaped his lips as he continued, “I’m ready to move what we have now forward… only if you are. So I’ll wait if I have to.”

She smiled through her red nose and watery eyes, and nodded. “Ok, Cloud… Thank you.”

The ringing of an alarm that he set on his phone jolted them. It was a reminder that the festival’s baking class that they signed up for was about to start. He moved to turn it off, before rising up to offer a hand to her. “Come, let’s not keep them waiting.”

***

“So! What did you make?”

The sun was already down when Cloud and Tifa reached the train station at Rocket Town to head back to Midgar. Darkness gave no way for people to see the nightly landscape of the prairies outside as the train passed by, drunks carrying the smell of alcohol moved restlessly around and causing ruckus; tired passengers fell asleep at their seats, while others entertained themselves with their respective interests – board games, books and music. When the train entered the underwater tunnel, almost all eyes turned to observe the scenery on sea life, regardless of how hard it was to see. Cloud and Tifa were more interested in one another; her question caught him abashed.

The truth was… he had produced a set of atrocious bonbons. They had the chance to create these sophisticated sweet delicacy under the coaching of a famed pastry chef, only for him to waste it all on paying more attention to how Tifa fare as a learner. He saw her focus and drive, and watched her hands moved with precision as she toiled to create her own bonbons. Her face would twinkle with delight whenever the chef came over to her bench and offered a series of praises to her progress. When she finished, she stood over her creations with a look of pride, enough to make him feel proud of her too. Meanwhile… he was able to make only six badly shaped bonbons out of nine that he was supposed to.

“Umm… I did just six of them and I filled them all with lemon jellies.”

Tifa beamed. “That’s great! Lemon fillings are some of my favourites. Can I have a taste of them?” When she saw him cringed, she swiftly said, “Unless… you don’t want me to?”

He was opposed to the idea of offering her his terribly made bonbons because he knew that they would taste dreadful… and he was not going to let her have his botched work which were supposedly made with her in mind! Yet…the anticipation reflected from her eyes coaxed him to give in. So he handed her his box of bonbons and warned, “They’re not going to be good.”

Tifa tittered. “It’s ok. You made it, Cloud. So I’ll have them all.” She unboxed what he gave her and took a bite from one bonbon. “Hmm… it does require more improvement but it’s not bad for a first attempt.”

He sighed. “You’re just being nice…”

“No, I’m serious, Cloud! They’re not as bad as you think they are,” she said, chuckling. From her handbag, she took out her own box of bonbons and gently slid it over the table towards him. “I made these for you.”

Receiving it with cheeks and ears burning red, he thanked her, “…Thanks, I appreciate it.” He wanted to hop around with bliss and brag about getting something from her that were specially made for him!

“Please… open it when you get home,” she requested, stopping him before he could unbox her bonbons. Then she uttered words that had taken root in his mind and inflamed his curiosity, “Cloud, I’m not good with words. So… I hope these can tell how I feel about you and what I want from us from now on.” The smile she gave him afterwards reminded him of stars glowing in the night skies, holding secrets waiting to be found by those brave enough to reach out and touch them… 

And so he waited patiently until he was all alone in his home.

When it was time, he placed her box on a coffee table and unsealed it, revealing three sets of bonbons: three of them were beige in colour, another three were white with some chaotic splashes of cyan across them, and the last three were glazed red. He carried on by tasting them all, set-by-set. The first set oozed with caramel; his inner mouth tingled with the chilly sensation of mint from the second set, and he tasted the bitterness and sweetness of cherries from the final three bonbons.

There was a note attached to the box, and words written on it in the cursive style of Tifa’s handwriting danced in his visions as he read them in a mumble: _trust and comradeship_ , _conflict_ , _love and acceptance_. 

His body quivered… it finally dawned on him what the note was supposed to mean.

 _Is this real?_ He asked himself for a number of times.

When he regained his poise, he drew the deepest of his breath in and typed a short text message that he then delivered to Tifa. All he wanted was to see her again. He _must_ see her again.

***

Dazzling lights from skyscrapers housing hotels, inns, casinos and offices kept Sector 0 of Midgar’s new city alive in the evening dimness. Nearby the entrance doors of Palmer Hotel’s restaurant stood Cloud, dressed in a cream tuxedo that was skilfully tailored for his frame. He held a bouquet of pink dianthuses harvested from Nibelheim, all arranged and wrapped in a white tulle. He checked his wristwatch and nervously adjusted his tie. The time continued ticking… until the sound of heels clacking against the marbled floors pulled his attention to an approaching figure. He watched as Tifa walked with grace in her metallic gold stilettos, and a long shimmering burgundy dress that was boldly exposing bits of her cleavage. When she arrived before him, he caught the sensual whiff of her perfume. She was a marvel.

“Did you went back to Nibelheim?” she asked, pointing a finger to the bouquet he was holding.

“Yeah… and they’re for you,” he answered. He was glad that he was able to bring and give to her a piece of Nibelheim.

On their entry into the restaurant, a waiter led them to a reserved bar seat by a window with a view overlooking the rest of Midgar’s new city. Another came bringing them menu pages encased in slick black leather covers for them to refer to.

“Is there anything in particular that you would recommend for me to get?” Tifa asked Cloud as she browsed through the menu.

“Well… there’s the cod florentine, their autumn solstice special menu,” he said, fully knowing that seafood was her usual go to meal, if not pastries and sweets.

From her smile, he knew that she was impressed. “I’ll take that then,” she told the waiter, and he chimed in to get a similar order.

He grinned when she made a quip about not being disappointed after taking several bites of their meals, which were cods marinated in honey, served on a bed of spinaches.

It was almost midnight when they finally finished their desserts but chose to stay around for a couple more rounds of champagne. He had heard from her about another book deal that she was securing and how she was in the middle of drawing up the autumn edition of her cakes and pastries. In return, he told her about the new batches of students registered in his dance classes and the number of dance workshops that he had to attend.

There was only one last thing that he needed to do.

He turned his gaze to her and traced the pearl earring hanging on her ear with his eyes. “Tifa…” When she looked at him too, he asked, “The bonbons… and the note… are they what I think they are…?”

Jazz music playing in the background lent a relaxed ambience in the restaurant. Alcohol absorbed into his blood flows was releasing him from what little tension that he had in him. Tifa said nothing but her face softened; her eyes were seeking something from him. So he reached his hand out to graze his thumb on the linings of her ear, feeding the craving he had to feel her skin under his touch again. Before he was even aware, she leaned in to claim his lips with hers. Unlike the desperate kiss they had in the pavilion, there was a certain conviction in the kiss she was giving him and he found it reassuring. Her lips felt like home against his and he wanted to stay like so for as long as he could.

When the kiss ended, she gave him a smile that told him everything that he needed to know about them. So he gave her a tender kiss on her forehead and found his hand clasping hers.

With eyes fixed on the view below them, she told him, “I don’t want to go home tonight.”

He smiled. “Stay with me then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping up with this Cloti AU. I had so much fun writing this! Perhaps, there might be a spinoff? Who knows ;)
> 
> EDIT (23.09.20): YES, there's already a spin off! Check out 'Truffles and A Son's Troubles'!


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